


No Place To Die

by Trifoilum



Category: Black Panther (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Black Panther (2018) Spoilers, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14525817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: SPOILER FOR THE AVENGERS: INFINITY WARSPOILERSPOILER================Okoye surveyed the battlefield because no one else would.





	No Place To Die

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER FOR THE AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR
> 
> SERIOUSLY STAY AWAY IF YOU ARE BOTHERED WITH SPOILER
> 
> BUT IF YOU DON'T
> 
> Welcome.
> 
> Let us cry together. ;__;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She counted the dead because no one else would.

Okoye surveyed the battlefield because no one else would.

So many were broken; not just in body—those gored and clawed and torn apart by those mindless beasts—but also in spirit. She saw M’Baku, the Great Gorilla, looking around broken trees and corpses and piles of dust before he approached a kneeling—weeping— tribesman of his. Gone were the ferocity of the Jabari—leaving only two men, confused and lost, body smeared with dust that might have been their brothers and sisters barely less than an hour ago.

They, like everyone else, never knew what actually happened. Even Okoye herself didn’t know what exactly had happened, and she had been fighting beside the people who did. But she could always trust her senses. The sharp, piercing pain on her chest was proof enough, a few broken ribs likely gained from her failed assault to the purple giant. For all the glories of Vibranium, her armors and spear had zero effect to the giant and he just tossed her away like she was a ragdoll. And then when she turned around there were all those spaceships, standing tall and mocking amidst the jungle. The silence was heavy and oppressive and Okoye had anticipated another wave of assault—the army, finishing the job their leader had started—but so far nothing appeared.

It enraged her to no end.

No need to waste any more seconds; she called for transporter ships before doing her role as General, commanding the remaining warriors to move. To her immense pride, none of them needed any rallying as they started helping the wounded and carried them to the incoming ships.

All of the ships had autopilot.

It made Okoye think about the city. How many of the people there—

Where else had it—

_What does it mean for half of the world to perish?_

That was what the raccoon said, echoed by the thunder god and Bruce Banner, and some part of her knew it was not an exaggeration because there was _a talking, gun-toting raccoon_ with a living tree coming from space, arriving together with a thunder-blasting space Viking god from another world to fight an army of mindless beast lead by the purple giant who proceeded to turn her king into—

Okoye gritted her teeth and slammed the end of her spear on the ground. Once, twice, thrice; a war chant to the dead air before she carried on, leading until most of the people were carried away into the palace, including the Avengers.The wind had been blowing strong as if it knew of the massacre that just happened, carrying these souls into the Ancestral Plane while scattering their flesh across the plain in a bitter circle of life.

She counted the dead because no one else would.

Roughly speaking, the remaining warriors of the Border Tribe numbered in meager dozens. A third of the Jabari died in the jaws and claws of otherworldly invaders and at least a quarter more crumbled into dust. In comparison, only ten of the Dora Milaje perished but each of them was a sister and Okoye could feel the loss resonating in her bones, her blood, her spirit.

Next, of the Avengers, or those working under that banner:

Falcon, or Samuel Thomas Wilson.

Scarlet Witch, or Wanda Maximoff.

Vision, an android.

Groot— That was what the Asgardian god and the talking raccoon called the living tree so Okoye tallied it all the same.

The White Wolf, or James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. _Sergeant_ , amended the Captain in a weak murmur.

And her king.

For Bast.

Her king. Her Black Panther, crumbling into dust in front of her eyes.

 _Don’t freeze_ , Okoye told him once. Wakanda needed her, the wounded needed her, and the general used the last of her willpower to obey her own advice. Her capacity to set her sentimentalities aside and focus on her duty to Wakanda was part of her training and what sets her apart as the general of the Dora.

(Once, that was her undoing with the false king. “N’jadaka, General. Or Erik Stevens,” chided her king after the civil war ended. “He may not sit on the throne rightfully and he may not use the power of the Black Panther for the good of Wakanda, but he remained my cousin, the son of N’Jobu, and he deserved the courtesy to not be forgotten as we had done to him once.”)

(For Bast. This— _being_ , this Thanos, he made the false king’s violent dream look like a childish tantrum. And she failed again and now she had to watch her king die the second time, only this time it was just a snap, a snap she could somehow feel resonating in her deepest soul, and—)

Okoye dropped to the ground and for a split second the general thought this was her time, the purple slaughterer was finishing his job and she was about to die without a fight. But she looked down and her body remained solid, her muscle ached in pain and oh.

Her body just gave up.

Dust was spattering across her legs, what was left of her brothers and sisters and comrades and king. She had done her duty as a general and what remained was the Dora Milaje, a warrior, a survivor, a human.

And as a Dora Milaje, Okoye feared failure more than death.

Her own death was something to be accounted for, a grim possibility but one that she would accept without question if it was for her land. Even the death of her king was a constant possibility, a looming spectre over every single bit of her actions. The moment she pledged to be a Dora Milaje was the moment she stopped fearing death.

But her failure meant exposing her king to danger and Okoye had failed. Just as how she failed protecting the late King T’Chaka, just as how she failed protecting Wakanda from the false king.

She failed.

Everyone failed and somehow she was spared. Somehow, despite her failure, she was alive and not her king.

Worse, it was T’Challa. Okoye respected and admired King T’Chaka, but she _knew_ T’Challa. Grew with him. Watched him grow from a prince to a warrior to a Black Panther to a _king_. Laughed with him, fought with him, played with him, Okoye and Shuri and Nakia and W’Kabi.

_(W’Kabi. Would he crumbled to dust as traitor or would she have to break his heart the second time by telling how their friend died?)_

She remembered her king, arm outstretched towards her. The last remaining part of her king, fading into dust before it could even fall.

 _This is no place to die_.

A growl bubbled in her throat, rising and rising until it merged with every single pain in her body to become a flame. It burned her inside until the general felt like she was dying and yet she stayed, she remained.

And a scream pierced the faded blue sky with its fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there it is. I got a few more things in my head-- including Queen Ramonda and Shuri-- but I need to finish my other writing first.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I had _problems_ with Infinity War but Danai Gurira and her acting was none of them. I got a jolt of inspiration after an anxiety attack and so, here I am.


End file.
